


Attending to His Every Need

by thegrizzlybear89



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Bottom Merlin, Dom Arthur, Dom/sub Play, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Merthur - Freeform, No Spoilers, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Smut, Top Arthur, initially looks like non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-23
Updated: 2016-06-23
Packaged: 2018-07-16 20:45:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7284106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegrizzlybear89/pseuds/thegrizzlybear89
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Too much wine gives Arthur very specific fancies, and, well - Merlin *is* supposed to attend to his every need.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Attending to His Every Need

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own the TV show Merlin nor any of the characters therein. *This fic starts out sounding a bit non-con, but it isn't, so if that triggers you, don't worry.*

Merlin kneels before the hearth in Arthur’s chambers, carefully stoking the fire in preparation for the prince’s return. Arthur had attended a rather informal knight’s banquet that evening. Although he had not required his servant at the event itself, Merlin had been around long enough to know that his sire would return exhausted, tipsy, and in a positively disputatious mood. To make his own life easier come morning (when Arthur would no doubt be even crankier from his inevitable hangover), Merlin had readied his chambers to the best of his ability, hoping to earn his way onto the prince’s good side — if such a side exists, that is.

The heavy door creaks open just as Merlin rises to brush off his trouser knees. “Sire,” he greets the prince, a bemused smile playing about lips as he watches for the tell-tale signs of drunkenness. He waits to see Arthur sway and stumble, or to hear him slur his name in that certain way (“Meeerlin,” he calls him, the syllable drawn out even further when he’s knackered). Yet Arthur closes the door behind himself without even breaking eye contact, and even reaches back to slide the bolt into place.

“Arthur? Are you alright?” Merlin asks, his smile only just fading as the prince walks slowly towards him.

“Fine,” he replies quietly, now standing oddly close to his servant. Merlin can smell wine on him, though not as strong as usual after such celebrations. Have I done something to displease him? Forgotten some part of my duties? Merlin wonders.

He’s pulled from his thoughts by Arthur’s intense stare. “S-sire?” he asks softly, taking small, shuffling steps backwards. “Is something not to your liking, my lord?” Merlin inquires, flashing a small, uncertain smile as Arthur continues to advance.

“Not at all,” the prince answers in that same low voice. His stare doesn’t waver except to slide down to his servant’s lips. “Merlin,” he says, inhaling quickly and flicking his gaze back up to the young man’s eyes with a long pause.

“Yes, my lord?” Merlin answers after a moment, trying not to grin at Arthur’s presumably drunken behavior. He startles, however, as the backs of his thighs hit the prince’s dining table, causing the wood to scrape noisily across the stone floor. The young warlock swallows, flustered by Arthur’s invasion of his breathing space. 

“On your knees,” Arthur answers in little more than a low whisper. Merlin blinks in surprise, his mouth falling ever so slightly open as he tries to comprehend the prince’s command.

“W-what?” he asks, that uncertain smile back on his face. “Um - why?”

“Why?” Arthur repeats, leaning into his face. “I’ll tell you why,” he continues more quietly, one hand suddenly tangling fingers in Merlin’s hair, gripping just hard enough to make the young man gasp. “Because I want this mouth,” the prince whispers, dropping his gaze back to Merlin’s lips, “…and you’re going to give it to me. Is that clear?”

Merlin stares back in startled bewilderment until Arthur’s hand tightening in his hair jerks him out of his silence. He hisses in discomfort and cringes into himself, trying to sidle away from the table’s edge digging into his thighs. “Sire,” he gasps, “I’m confused - I haven’t ever - I didn’t think you - that is, um - I’m not sure what - what you’re asking me…” Merlin stammers anxiously, still leaning away from Arthur’s grip.

“I’m not asking you anything, you idiot,” Arthur growls, and Merlin tenses further, wondering if this may have been some sort of sick joke. As much as Arthur’s sudden change has startled him, after all, Merlin can’t say his only reaction is fear. He awkwardly attempts to lean in such a way as to conceal the slight bulge in his trousers. “I’m telling you to get on your fucking knees,” the prince says, pointedly shoving Merlin down by his shoulder, the other hand still in his hair.

Merlin lands with a painful thud and finds his head being yanked backwards by his bangs. He yelps, squeezing his eyes tightly shut against the stinging sensation until Arthur commands he look at him.

“Merlin,” he says, his tone and gaze softening momentarily as the dark headed young man meets his eyes. “Open your mouth.”

The young servant’s throat goes dry and he can’t hold back a pathetic sound as Arthur undoes the ties of his trousers and goes to reach inside, holding Merlin’s head firmly in place. “Do you want me to stop?” Arthur whispers, pausing in his movements to brush the fingers of his free hand across Merlin’s cheek. “I may be a prat, Merlin, but I won’t force you to do anything you don’t want to. Say the word and I’ll stop,” he murmurs, now tracing his thumb over Merlin’s bottom lip. The warlock hesitates, his breath stuttering as he gazes up at Arthur with blown pupils.

“No,” he whispers, almost imperceptibly.

“No, what?” Arthur replies, softening his grip in his hair and letting his thumb linger on Merlin’s lower lip.

“No, sire,” Merlin answers automatically before catching on to Arthur’s meaning. “No, sire, I - I don’t want you to stop,” he says softly, glancing down at the floor as his cheeks flush with shame. Arthur swallows thickly at the sight, thinking of all the ways he would love to make Merlin blush just like that.

“Then do as I say,” Arthur replies hoarsely, sliding his hand further into Merlin’s hair for better leverage. He leans down to grip Merlin’s chin, forcing the servant to meet his eyes. “Serve your master,” he whispers, brushing his lips against the young man’s for a brief moment before he straightens and releases his cock from the confines of his trousers. 

Merlin inhales softly at the sight and wets his lips, leaning in to tentatively lick at Arthur’s slit. The prince exhales, carding his fingers through Merlin’s hair for a moment before catching himself at the embarrassing display of tenderness. Merlin relaxes at the action, however, and begins to lap at his master’s tip with more confidence, glancing up now and then to gauge his reactions.

After a minute or two, Arthur grasps roughly at the crown of Merlin’s hair. “More,” he commands in a deep voice, nudging his servant’s head until he is forced to shuffle forward on his knees. The movement pulls on the fabric of Merlin’s trousers, causing them to tighten over his bulge and draw a soft whimper from his lips. “Start at the base and work your way back up,” Arthur instructs, flushing at the lewdness of his own command. Merlin’s cheeks flush as well, but a shy smile tugs at his lips as he mumbles a meek, “Yes, sire,” and does as he’s told.

“Good,” Arthur manages as Merlin obediently sucks the tip of his cock into his mouth. He tries to appear as if his knees aren’t about to buckle, but when Merlin pulls away for air, Arthur steps back to support himself against the table’s edge. His movement forces Merlin to crawl forward on hands and knees, lips shining with saliva and Arthur’s pre-cum, and good God, what a sight. Arthur exhales, his eyes darkening as his servant begins to swallow him down again, blinking up at his master with half-lidded eyes.

“Good boy,” Arthur murmurs on a whim. From the way Merlin’s eyes flutter shut as he moans around Arthur’s cock, he seems to enjoy the praise. Arthur breathes out a soft chuckle and cards his fingers back through Merlin’s hair.

“Do you like that?” he asks, thrusting gently into his throat to feel the young man gag around his length. “Being praised by your master?” Merlin whines softly in response, tilting his head into the prince’s hand once he is finally sheathed in his throat. Merlin can’t help the way he jerks forward as Arthur’s cock brushes against the back of his throat, causing his lean form to heave as he chokes. He has to draw back to keep from being sick, and he accidentally grazes his teeth against Arthur’s tip as he pulls away.

“I’m sorry, sire,” he says between weak coughs, glancing up worriedly.

“Keep going,” Arthur replies, cringing slightly but pulling him forward again, “Did I say you could stop? "  
“N-no, master,” Merlin mumbles, feeling the new word roll off his tongue, loving the way it makes him warm all over. He takes Arthur’s cock more slowly this time, using one hand to stroke the rest of him. The prince groans, fisting a second hand in Merlin’s hair and using it to move his head up and down. “Relax,” he commands, tilting his head back in bliss as Merlin whimpers every few thrusts. When his servant begins to gag a bit too hard, though, tears streaking his face, Arthur pulls him off and instead pushes Merlin onto his back. Pinning him down with a knee on either side of his lean chest, Arthur wraps a hand gently around his throat.

“And what’s this?” the prince murmurs, reaching back to press the heel of his hand against the other man’s bulge. “You’re not enjoying this, are you, Merlin?” Arthur taunts, squeezing him rather roughly, prompting Merlin to gasp and squirm beneath him. “You don’t want me to fuck you, do you?” he asks with mock incredulity.

“Y-yes, please, sire,” Merlin pleads, his face burning as he can’t help but rut up against his prince’s hand.

“Please what?” Arthur breathes against his lips, and the sweet smell of wine washes over Merlin.

“Please - fuck me, sire!” Merlin pants in frustration, squirming as Arthur takes his hand away.

“Since you asked so nicely,” Arthur teases, deftly untying Merlin’s trousers and tugging them down without hesitation. Merlin swallows and avoids Arthur’s gaze as he reaches for his servant’s cock and strokes it slowly, pushing Merlin’s knees up with his free hand.

“Have you done this before?” Arthur asks. Merlin shakes his head, shyly wetting the fingers Arthur presses into his mouth. “It may be a bit uncomfortable at first,” he murmurs, circling one finger around Merlin’s hole.

“What, like you pulling me around by my hair?” Merlin retorts without thinking. Arthur chuckles and spitefully shoves a finger inside him, wiping the cheeky grin off Merlin’s face. “Sorry, master,” he says, squirming at the discomfort.

“That’s better,” Arthur taunts, slowly working the finger inside him until he can insert another. He brushes his prostate and Merlin’s hips buck as he moans low in his throat. “Good boy,” Arthur murmurs again, stroking Merlin’s cock with his free hand. He should really try for a third, but at the sight of Merlin’s cheeks flushed pink and his cock leaking against his stomach as he’s stretched open - Arthur simply can’t wait any longer. He moves up to Merlin’s lips, wetting his cock in that warm, perfect little mouth before pushing his servant’s legs up and positioning himself at his entrance.

“Relax,” he soothes, rubbing circles across Merlin’s stomach as he eases his tip inside. The warlock whines, his face screwed up in discomfort until Arthur is finally seated within him. The prince draws back and thrusts slowly into him, reaching up to stroke his cheek until the pain finally fades into pleasure. Merlin arches his back, a string of nonsensical pleas escaping him as Arthur’s movements quicken. “Am I hurting you?” he asks, stilling his motions with a concerned expression.

“No, sire - please, Arthur - don’t stop,” Merlin begs, hands flying up to Arthur’s strong arms as he tries to push back against the prince’s cock. Relieved, Arthur grins and resumes rocking his hips, pitching forward to nip at Merlin’s collarbone. “Sire,” Merlin sighs contentedly, closing his eyes and tilting his head to allow the prince access to his neck. Arthur wraps a hand around his throat, squeezing gently at the sides for a few moments - just long enough to make the warlock gasp and gaze up into Arthur’s bright eyes.

“Merlin,” Arthur begins, leaning down for a kiss from those swollen lips, “I’m going to finish in your mouth, and you’re going to swallow every last drop. Do you understand?” he asks softly, pressing kisses all along the sharp lines of Merlin’s jaw.

“Yes, sire,” the warlock gasps, grasping at his prince’s shoulders as Arthur drives into him, pressing his bony back into the uncomfortable stone. The prince manages a few more hard thrusts before pulling out and straddling Merlin’s face once again, propping himself up with one hand on the ground above Merlin’s head. Arthur strokes himself frantically, his groans echoing through his chambers as he spills onto Merlin’s tongue and watches his servant lap it up eagerly. “Good boy,” the prince breathes, wiping up the excess with his fingers and pushing them into Merlin’s open mouth. The boy's eyes slide closed contentedly as he cleans off Arthur's fingers and laps sporadically at his cock, stopping only when the prince shivers and twitches away from his warmth.

Arthur catches his breath for a moment before fastening his trousers and kneeling beside the young man. Sliding strong arms beneath his back and knees, Arthur lifts a protesting Merlin into his arms and carries him to the bed, laying him down gently atop the covers. After stripping first his own shirt and then Merlin’s, the prince lies beside him, stroking calloused fingers down the warlock’s pale abdomen and wrapping them gently around his cock. “You were perfect, so good for your master,” he murmurs, circling his wrist around Merlin’s tip as the young man’s hips lift desperately. 

“Would you like to cum, Merlin?” Arthur asks, gazing mischievously into his servant’s darkened eyes.

“Yes, master,” Merlin groans, nodding feverishly, his chest shining with sweat. He all but shouts as Arthur’s tongue suddenly laves over him, licking up the pre-cum beading at his tip. “Be still,” Arthur warns him sternly, gripping at his sharp hipbones to keep him from thrusting. Merlin whimpers but stills obediently, biting his fist to keep from sobbing as Arthur skillfully drags his tongue up the young man’s cock. 

A jumbled string of ‘please, sire, please, please’ begins to pour from Merlin’s lips as the prince tongues at his tip and presses two fingers back inside him. Arthur all but purrs at the warlock’s desperation, wondering if his servant had thought of this as often as he had. Either way, he quickly pushes the younger man over the edge, allowing Merlin’s cum to spill all over his lean chest, leaving him wrecked and breathless.

When the warlock’s eyes open again, Arthur is leaning down to trail his tongue through the sticky mess painting his chest. Merlin wets his lips, taking in his prince’s lithe, leonine form above him. “Thank you, Arthur,” he whispers, a shy smile forming on his face when Arthur comes to hover just inches from his face.

“Mmm…don’t get used to it,” Arthur teases, stealing a kiss from the disheveled boy beneath him. Lying back against the covers, Arthur pulls Merlin against his side with a quiet sigh of contentment. 

“I won’t,” Merlin replies. A few moments pass, and Arthur is beginning to drift. “Sire?” Merlin says, the sudden sound starting Arthur back to wakefulness.

“What, Merlin?” the prince sighs.

“You should drink wine more often,” Merlin murmurs, smiling as he curls into Arthur’s chest.


End file.
